


Adonis

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Fic, Hugs, M/M, Multi, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ten thousand in cash," said Neal without missing a beat. / Mix'n'match AU of 2.02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adonis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReginaGiraffe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaGiraffe/gifts), [sophia_sol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/gifts).



## Part 1

There was a knock on the surveillance van door. Peter generally frowned on unscheduled visitors, because what could possibly be more suspicious than a utility van that never went anywhere, with people coming and going from the back? But when Jones opened the door, it was El. His chagrin faded. "Hey, hon, what's up?"

"Hello, my dear," El was saying to Jones, and then, "Diana," and then she smiled at Peter. "My dinner finished early, and I thought I'd get a ride home with you, if you won't be too long."

Peter nearly pointed out that she could have called instead of dropping by, but he knew she was here at least in part because she was concerned about Neal's undercover assignment with the Adonis Escort Agency, because she had feelings for Neal—lustful as well as occasionally maternal feelings, Peter thought. But they hadn't talked about it yet, nor about the fact that he shared the attraction, and it definitely wasn't a discussion he was willing to start in front of his team. "We should be wrapping up soon. Neal's on his way to meet with Barrow now."

"Peter." Jones signaled that something important was happening on the wire, and Peter switched the sound to speaker.

"Look around," said a rough voice, presumably Barrow. "The richest people in New York come here. You want to work for me, you'll make in a week what you normally make in a year."

"Sounds good," said Neal, sounding casual and confident. "I can always use more pocket money."

Barrow snorted. "You'll be making more than pocket money, believe me. But here's the thing: I need to know that I can trust you, and I need to make sure you know what you're doing. This is for the penthouse suite. Pick any guy at the bar. I want his ten grand in my hand by four A.M."

"Ten thousand in cash," said Neal without missing a beat. A moment later, he murmured under his breath, "Hey guys, looks like I'm taking someone up to the penthouse."

Peter shook his head. Trust Neal to pretend to roll with it instead of using the activation phrase. He must know that no power on earth would make Peter let him audition for Barrow's agency.

"What now?" asked Diana.

Peter looked around. "Where's Elizabeth?"

"Um, Peter?" said Neal over the speaker, uncharacteristic uncertainty coming across loud and clear, and then, just as plain, El's voice asking if she could buy Neal a drink.

"Oh God," said Peter, appalled, covering his eyes with one hand. He could call a halt, but that would jeopardize the whole operation. On the other hand, there was no way he was leaving El and Neal in there alone—there was no telling what trouble they'd get themselves into. He took a deep breath. "All right, let's make the best of this. They're not in any immediate danger. We have three hours. If we can get ten thousand, we can follow the money, see if it leads back to Jennings."

"We can't get a cash request out of the bureau that fast," said Diana.

Peter nodded. "I know."

El and Neal were flirting over the wire. Peter resolutely put aside the fact that he was going to have to explain this to Hughes and listened in.

"Are you sure I can afford you?" asked El.

"That's not what worries me," Neal told her. "I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be proving I can show a man a good time, and you certainly don't fit that description. That's a fantastic gown, by the way."

"Why, thank you," said El, sounding charmed. "If it's any consolation, I believe my husband's right outside."

"Oh God," said Peter again, feeling his face heat up. He refused to look at the others.

Neal laughed and said quietly, "Peter, if you're wondering where to get ten thousand dollars, tell Jones to meet our mutual friend at my place."

"I was afraid he was going to say that," said Jones.

"Yeah," said Peter. "You go talk to the little guy. Diana, you're running things here in the van."

Diana moved to take his seat and put his headphones around her neck. "What about you, boss?"

Peter straightened his tie. "Most of Barrow's clientele are men, but there are a few couples in there too. Looks like El and I are going to be one of them."

 

## Part 2

Neal led the way into the penthouse suite. "You ever take a bath in champagne?"

"No," said Peter shortly.

El followed, hiding a grin. Peter's response to this whole situation was somewhere between long-suffering and appalled, with a healthy dose of embarrassment in there for good measure. And of course, Neal was taking every opportunity to bait him. El knew she should be trying to rein him in for Peter's sake, but honestly, it was too good a show to pass up.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Peter went to Neal and tugged up his shirt—making Neal hold up his hands and pull a wide-eyed innocent face at El, clearly disclaiming all responsibility for this manhandling—and removed the wire.

Neal winced as the tape was torn from his skin. "Ow. A little warning next time?"

Peter ignored him. "Diana, I've got this," he said into the wire. "We'll call if we need you." He deactivated it and put it in his jacket pocket.

Neal tucked his shirt back in, presumably reflexively, bounced over to the sofa and picked up the phone. "Room service?"

"Neal!"

Neal shrugged, completely unabashed.

El knew that it was awkwardness putting that stern warning note into Peter's voice, but she was a little surprised to see Neal understood that too. She sat on the end of the bed and took off her shoes, scrunching her toes in the luxurious carpet.

"Good luck even getting him into a robe," she told Neal, giving him a goal to aim for, just to see if he'd take it.

Neal looked at her with genuine amusement, his eyes gleaming, so pretty it almost took her breath away. "I've always enjoyed a challenge."

Peter stood in the middle of the room, put his hands on his hips and eyed first Neal, then El. "Why on earth would we need to change into robes?"

"Barrow interruptus?" suggested El. "What if he walks in on us?"

Neal was on the phone to room service now. El raised her eyebrows and managed to look vaguely guilty, to keep Peter's attention.

Peter stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Barrow isn't going to interrupt a paying customer."

Neal hung up the phone. "No, but his room service flunky might."

Peter threw his hands in the air. "Neal!"

"What? I'm keeping up appearances," said Neal, looking slightly injured. "You're supposed to be big spenders, remember?" He got up and wandered to the bathroom like a kid exploring, or a thief looking for something to steal.

"This isn't what we're here for," grumbled Peter.

El held out one of the robes folded on the bed. "Honey, it's just a robe. It won't bite."

"You're enjoying this!" said Peter, but he took the robe.

El looked around the elegant room. "It doesn't suck."

At that exact moment, Neal sauntered out of the bathroom in another plush white robe, his hair artfully ruffled and his feet bare. He must have changed in about five seconds—El supposed that was a cat burglar thing.

Peter shook his head at El. "Oh, _now_ I get it."

"What?" El did her best to look demure.

Peter took at step toward her. "Don't give me that."

"You're a paying customer," said Neal, his voice like liquid honey. "I'll give you anything you like." He looked up at Peter through his eyelashes, and El swallowed a moan. Damn!

Peter, on the other hand, sounded like he was choking. "Neal!"

Neal dropped his head for a moment, and then glanced to El and sighed. "Doesn't he know anything about role-playing?"

"What do you think?" said El, grinning. She took the second robe from the bed and went into the bathroom. Maybe they could peer-pressure Peter into relaxing for an hour or two. And if the relaxing also involved flirting, well—El was pretty sure she was okay with that.

She changed, unpinned her hair and went back into the main room. But when Neal turned and caught sight of her, something raw and grief-stricken flashed across his face. It was gone in an instant, replaced with a wide smile and a flirtatious gaze, but El knew what she'd seen.

Peter must have seen it too. He went over to Neal, gruffness and awkwardness apparently forgotten. "What is it?"

To El's surprise, Neal's smile slipped. He responded as if instinctively to the concern in Peter's voice. "I thought—Just for a second, Elizabeth looked like Kate. It was a trick of the light. I'm fine."

El bit her lip, regretting letting her hair down. She'd only seen two photos of Kate from Neal's file, but in both of them, the girl had worn her long dark hair loose about her shoulders. El was about to apologize, to say something, but Peter got there first, not with words but with a strong hand on Neal's shoulder. A second later, somehow—El couldn't have said who started it—Peter was holding Neal, hugging him so tight that his arms were almost lost in the loose folds of Neal's robe.

El moved to perch on the foot of the bed again, and Peter looked across at her helplessly. He had one hand cupping the back of Neal's neck, and Neal's face was buried in the crook of his neck. Neither of them moved.

El gave Peter a faint, encouraging smile and a nod.

Then Neal raised his head and kissed Peter.

Neal Caffrey was kissing her husband, and Peter—Peter was kissing him back. A jolt of electricity left El breathless and tingling. She should be—she didn't even know how she should react, and before she could work it out, Peter was pushing Neal away, somehow disengaging without releasing the hug.

"Not like this," he murmured to Neal, so low El could barely hear him. "Not here."

The implications were as shocking as the kiss. Peter was acknowledging the possibility of a place and time where it would be okay. El clasped her hands together, elated and terrified. What if they were leaving her behind? What if—?

"Peter," said Neal, pleading. El would have bet money that he'd forgotten she was in the room. Possibly forgotten she existed at all.

Peter brought their foreheads together. "Not like this," he said, impossibly gentle. "El and I need to talk about it. We—"

"It's okay," said El, not really sure what she was agreeing to, but unable to bear Neal's pain.

"No," said Peter, firm but still gentle. "It's not."

Neal straightened, his face pale, and he pulled away from Peter. After a moment, Peter let him go.

"It's okay," said Neal, stepping back, shoving his hands in his pockets. He sounded strained. He looked like he was made of glass.

El's heart ached for him. "No, it's not." She glanced at Peter, who was still watching Neal, obviously concerned, obviously in love with him. She made a decision. "Come here."

They both looked at her. Peter raised his eyebrows. "El?"

She scooted up the bed and patted the space beside her. "Come here," she told them both. Peter took his suit jacket off, toed off his shoes, and slowly, they climbed onto the bed. Neal lay in the middle, and El and Peter hugged him from either side.

El stroked his hair back. "I'm sorry," she said. Sorry about Kate. Sorry about two long months in prison, away from the people who cared about him. She hadn't had the chance to say it before, not really. She put her arm around him and Peter was there, and it felt right.

Neal gave a shuddering sigh, and then he was himself again. Still hiding his grief—maybe he always would; maybe that was just how he was—but letting them hold him, comfort him. Peter's hand was on his shoulder, and El lay back on the bed and let them all take a moment to breathe, to be together.

After a long while, Neal stretched like a cat and sighed again, relaxed this time. A good sigh. "So," he said, "about the champagne bath—"

 

## Part 3

After they dropped Neal home that night, Peter and El stopped off at a no-frills all-night diner in the East Village. The waitress brought them coffee, and Peter looked across at Elizabeth, who seemed remarkably calm and familiar for someone who'd just spent the evening lying around in a fancy robe, cuddling Neal.

Peter folded his arms on the formica tabletop and said, "So, I guess we need to talk."

"You think?" Her mouth turned down in amusement. "What are we talking about—the part where you kissed Neal, or the part where you told him 'not here'?"

She reached across the table and took his hand.

Peter couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation, that El was taking this all so well. He'd known she was attracted to Neal, but he'd never dreamed they'd discuss it like this. He squeezed her fingers. "How about the part where you said, 'it's okay'?"

She dropped her gaze. "Oh yeah. About that—" She stirred sugar into her coffee, apparently thinking hard, then she took a deep breath and met Peter's gaze. "I like him. I worry about him. I trust him more than I probably should. He's _very_ good-looking—which probably goes without saying. Seeing you kiss him was amazing. I didn't know I could—enjoy that. It would only take a nudge and I'd start falling in love with him." Her smile turned rueful. "And when he looks at me, he sees Kate. Your turn."

"I love you," said Peter, helplessly. She had every right to be furious with him, but instead she was warm and open and _willing_. "I am so goddamned lucky."

She breathed a laugh and withdrew her hand to drink a mouthful of bad diner coffee. "We're not talking about me."

"I know," said Peter, mesmerized by her all the same. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The diner was mostly empty, and the few people who were there were either talking loudly to each other or sitting by the window, well out of earshot. He leaned forward anyway. "Okay. I respect him—he's brilliant and good, and he cares about people so much that sometimes I forget he's a felon. I love that I can catch him out and he knows it. I—I love him." It was terrifying saying it aloud, bold and unqualified, but El just nodded.

"I know, honey. Go on."

Peter pulled at his shirt cuffs and waited for his heart to stop pounding. "I haven't felt like this about a guy in a really long time, El. But—he's my CI."

"And?" asked El.

Peter raised his eyebrows at her. Wasn't that enough?

But she tilted her head. "There's something else. What stopped you tonight?"

Oh. "Kate," said Peter. "I don't want to be his rebound. If anything were going to happen between us, I'd want it to be more than that. I need him to mean it."

El nodded. "Do you think he does? I mean, I know he admires you, and obviously the gay thing isn't an issue, if tonight's anything to go by, but—"

"I don't know," said Peter. "He's still grieving. I don't know if it's occurred to him at all. And even if it has, I can't do anything about it. I'm—"

"—responsible," she said. "I know. You're a good man." She didn't seem to see any irony in that statement, given they were sitting here discussing potential inappropriate conduct with Peter's parolee.

"We should just forget about it," he said. "Put it aside and move on."

"What else can we do? For now, at least," said El, taking his hand again. "You know, he won't be on parole forever. And—did I mention I care about him too, and I really liked seeing you kissing him?"

Peter smiled, despite himself. "I never took you for a pervert, Mrs. Burke."

"Well, now you know," she said, grinning back. Her smile faded quickly. "I meant it when I said it's okay, that's all. And if we—if we can find a way to be his friends, then I want to."

Peter leaned across and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It'll be a tightrope act."

"I know," she said, picking up her coffee cup, her wedding ring bright under the fluorescent lights. "We'll be okay. We can help each other balance."


End file.
